


The Sirens of Sleep

by lulahbelle



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulahbelle/pseuds/lulahbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus fucks his dreams but Esca gets in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sirens of Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally attempted for a kinkmeme prompt but it went astray from that and no longer can be considered a fill. Thank you to Lady Tiferet for making me feel some confidence in posting it any place.

With each night beyond the wall Marcus and Esca bed down closer, until they lay so near alongside that they are sharing furs. Neither shuns the nearness. It is natural, It being too cold for them to be far apart as well as too dangerous in this place of rogue warriors and Rome's enemies. 

*

Esca wakes in the night with a start.

Afraid he has been stirred by attackers he listens out for their voices and footfalls around him, then, when he hears that all is entirely silent, he puts his head up to look for them, but he sees no more than he has heard.

Trusting they are safe he sinks back down beneath their furs, into the close heat radiating from Marcus' body behind him and is just drifting toward sleep once more when Marcus thrusts his stiff cock into the small of his back. 

Marcus likely fucks his dreams, without clue what he does to him in the real world, but intent is irrelevant to the instant pulse of need his movement wakens. 

Esca's blood is always hot. He wakes most mornings with his cock exactly as hard against his thigh as Marcus' feels to be about his back.  He always takes care of it quietly fast in his tugging grip, but his own hand has never quite satisfied his body's deep need for another.

Esca knew Marcus tugged himself too, wise to him hiding it behind the guise of taking a piss or fetching water. He had often wondered whether he had as unsatisfying a time with his hand as he did. Now in the dark, with the continued seeking of his hips, he would seem to have his answer. 

Esca's heart flutters large and loud, captured in his breast.

There is possibility for relieving the frustration in this finding of clear, mutual need. He tries to turn from the joy that thought makes inside him, to find wrongness in it, but when Marcus' slow knock for entrance comes from behind again he moves slow back towards it. Marcus' body rolls forwards, the brace of his hips curving tight to his backside. Esca finds the weight and warmth of him on his back intensely exciting.

The sleep jousting of his cock comes again against, stuttering at first then regular and rhythmic.

Esca's own cock twitches, growing interested and he puts a hand over it in answer.

Sinking, drowsy, back to a world atop this one - not wanting consciousness to contemplate what he does so needfully, Esca reaches behind him, locks a hand around Marcus' wrist and guides his palm round to touch his cock.

Marcus' hand springs back off, away from him.

Now fallen somewhere between the yoke of wakefulness and the willfulness of dreams, suspended in a desperate, essential state, Esca presses Marcus' hand back again to the aching he has made between his legs, firmly bidding him to take responsibility for it.

This time the heavy contact remains. The deliberate touch of another, so missed, is so good. A spike of need drives itself into Esca's gut so deep and hard that he cannot breathe. He pants, mouth hanging open as Marcus' hand strokes against him slow. Marcus himself remains a ramrod squeezed up against him, hips pumping, working off on his curve in sleep distended motion as Esca does his hand.

There is considerable pleasure for both in settling such a long felt soreness and loud, conjoined grunts and pants fill the dark air around them.

Marcus' grip slips from Esca's cock and moving quick he smooths Esca's tunic up to his back then his braccae down until his backside is bare. Then he lifts his own clothes away from his prick and sinks it, bare against Esca's nakedness.

His cock, hot and engorged, jabs then slides wet against the curve of Esca's form.

Esca finds this subjection to Marcus' lust, the very thing a slave should least desire and have most fear of, so fulfilling that he shivers, his cock leaping all over the place by itself, leaking.

The dark of the world is so thick and Marcus' sounds and sturdy power behind him register even darker. Breaths warm the back of Esca's neck now and his hips seem to be, somehow, impossibly, even closer, bringing that warm, rampant, rigidness in firm against his behind,

Marcus' hand returns to pulling Esca's naked prick. Firm thumb slow, exploring the feel of it tip to root, then stripping tight but slow and lazy. As he does this his prick brushes against the warm, forbidden seam of Esca's arse, slipping between the cheeks shallow.

The questing head of his cock ends up between Esca's thighs, locked against his balls. Marcus thrusts minutely but is unable to manage much movement beyond them in the dark and with the poor co-ordination caused by his desperation. 

His breaths stab the air in grunt like pants and his fisting to Esca's cock becomes a little harsh, squeezing with the exertion of pursuing his own relief. 

Shocked, fogged, breath fights in a moan out of Esca at his hard grip.

Each wriggle Esca gives backwards causes Marcus' cock to press harder against his balls which shoots a wash of fulfillment all over him, so he grinds his hips slow back.

Grunting loudly Marcus pulls off at it and beneath the rustle and slap of his hand releases on Esca's thigh. A stream of spattering hotness that slides slickly down his flesh. 

Marked, tainted, Esca feels a pure state of the shame he always feels whenever he looks at Marcus, knowing he ought to feel hate but hot with something else instead.

That shame is heavy and overpowering, glorious. Beneath it Esca comes, huffing a harsh breath that begins a frantic, choking spate of exerted pants as deep satisfaction pulls all through him.

"Esca?" Marcus gasps, uncertain and plosive with exhaustion.

Esca doesn't know whether they would both rather he feign sleep. He is being pulled back there and it would be easy to let his soul lisp away into the press of the unconsciousness surrounding them. 

At the last minute, resisting, he says, "I am awake."

"Tomorrow night may we try this facing?" Marcus says clearly shaking, in some raw state, voice ragged, words apparently as uncontrollable out of him as the spit of his cock had been.

"We may try whatever you wish," Esca says, exhausted, floating towards contented sleep before the pain of shame occurs to him.

At least there will be nothing in daylight Esca thinks, nothing for he or anyone else to see - he won't allow it. It is one last attempt to tell himself that everything is still right with the honour he lost the moment he saw Marcus' face.


End file.
